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He’d ticketed her again!
Callie shoved the front door shut with her hip and stormed into the house.
A quick bite at the diner had turned into much more, and she’d found herself essentially trapped at her table by interested admirers. By the time she’d left, the police chief had been long gone, but he’d left a reminder tucked under the windshield wiper of her car. A parking ticket this time.
“Aaagggh.”
Okay, so she’d parked in front of a fire hydrant. It hadn’t been intentional. She hadn’t even seen the thing. She’d been looking up at shop signs and window displays. Besides, it had been painted green. Weren’t they supposed to be yellow or red to draw attention to themselves? No, this thing had blended right in. Although some might argue that green didn’t blend with the concrete sidewalk...
She dropped her bag from Ernie’s onto the kitchen table with a thud.
Had he ticketed her before or after he’d come into the restaurant? What was his problem, anyway? Did he feel the need to show her who was boss? Was he used to being the big man on campus? Did he not like the attention she was getting at the restaurant for her column?
A column that, apparently, he didn’t read.
He hadn’t even heard of it. She didn’t know why that irked her so much. There were millions of people who had never heard of her. They didn’t bother her.
He did.
She shrugged out of her jacket and threw it over a chair. The way he’d spoken to Mamie and Alice had been uncalled for, too. So stern and parental. As if two mature women needed rules on what to say and how to behave. Okay, so they were excitable. What was wrong with that?
Callie grabbed her new broom and started sweeping.
The way they’d stood up for him after he’d left, though! Boy, had they laid it on thick. Her fellow diners had been more than happy to tell her all about the police chief’s exploits. Everyone from Alice to Mamie to the busboy had been quick to tell her the story of the “big arrest.” Apparently, Landry and his people had been involved in the capture of one of those escaped convicts from Concord.
And, okay, maybe it had been a big deal.
“Maybe he is a stud.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. “Okay, granted, the man is a stud.”
That didn’t mean she was impressed. Throwing around tickets willy-nilly didn’t make him Super Cop.
In minutes, she was up to her elbows in sudsy water. Armed with a sponge, she attacked the kitchen counters.
Alice had excused the chief’s grumpy mood on lack of sleep, due to the fact that he was on the governor’s task force to track down those remaining fugitives, and Mamie had gone on and on about how sweet the man was.
“Sweet as a toothache,” Callie muttered. Two tickets and a fine! Didn’t he have anything better to do? If he was so hopped up to find those escaped inmates, why was he wasting his time with her?
“Hardass,” she muttered.
She looked around at the progress she’d made. The cupboards needed to be cleaned out and the floor begged to be scrubbed, but the kitchen almost looked livable. It smelled better, too. She’d opened the windows to get rid of the staleness. The bite in the breeze coming in put goosebumps on her arms, but the air was lighter now. Lighter and happier.
She glanced up. Funny, the wind hadn’t let up, but that shutter on the second floor had stopped squeaking.
“Not complaining.” She grabbed her broom and headed to her new bedroom.
She was nowhere near to working off the steam she’d built up over one ruggedly sexy, but irritating man.
It was only after scrubbing her knuckles raw, breaking a nail, and bruising both knees that she decided she could stand to stay for the night. She’d only managed to get the kitchen, her bedroom, and the bathroom into some sort of order. The rest of the house remained untouched.
As it had for years.
She stretched to pop her back. It was time for a break.
She returned to the kitchen and dropped heavily onto one of the chairs she’d shipped from her apartment in Boston. When she looked out the window, she was surprised how dark it was. More time had passed during her cleaning spree than she’d realized. With as far back as the house sat off the street, not even the streetlights reached this far.
The thought was a bit unnerving.
“Alice was right. I need to get some outdoor lighting.”
In fact, she needed to start a list for the next time she went to Ernie’s. Feeling uneasy, she got up to close the windows. She rubbed her stomach when it growled noisily. Food also needed to go on that list. She hadn’t managed to get to the grocery store. In fact, she’d forgotten about it entirely.
“Thank God for overly friendly realtors.” She sighed in bliss when she opened the refrigerator and felt the cool air hit her over-warmed skin. “By the time I have that chat with you, Henderson, I may just feel like kissing you.”
Although... The man had once again crossed the line by setting her toiletries out in the shower. Just thinking about him fondling her raspberry-scented body wash gave her the heebie-jeebies. “Kicking you, I meant. Kicking.”
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t eat his food. She reached for the meat and cheese platter. There was enough to last her for a few days. At least she didn’t have to head out again tonight, which was a very good thing. With as hard as she’d worked, she’d be apt to fall asleep before she made it out of the produce section. If the grocery store even stayed open this late...
She grabbed the champagne, too. Not even bothering to get a plate or silverware, she sat down at the table and tucked a foot underneath her. Finally, she felt herself start to unwind. It was her first night in her new home, and she was determined to enjoy it—regardless of the state of the house, the grumpy police chief, or a town full of nice, but snoopy people.
“Just what’s wrong with the place anyway?” She took a bite of a rolled-up slice of roast beef and glanced around.
Her heart nearly jumped out her chest when she saw someone looking straight back at her.
She recognized her mirror image in the same instant and pressed a hand to her ribcage. “Stupid window.”
The darkness outside was black now. Inky black without a hint of moonlight. With the kitchen light glowing, it made the glass window perfect for reflections... or seeing in from the outside.
Callie shook off the sudden, eerie feeling of being watched. “Curtains.”
Her list was growing longer and longer.
Trying not to look at that dark abyss, she evaluated the kitchen. The stove looked like it might be on its last legs. The 1970s-style linoleum was curling off the floor in the corners, but that really was a good thing. It had to go. As did the olive-green walls...
The sensation of being watched hit her again.
She whipped her head to the window, but quickly realized that wasn’t where it was coming from.
Thump.
The noise made her turn sharply to her left. The basement.
Thump-thump.
She lurched out of her chair, caught the edge of the table, and braced herself. Her breaths sounded loud in her ears, but she tried to listen past them for anything else. Anything... Something...
Air started blowing from the vent on the floor. The furnace. It was just the old furnace.
Her shoulders slumped in relief. That was going to take some getting used to.
A cold breeze swept over her skin. “What the—”
Twisting, she looked under the table at the vent. She could feel heat on her ankles, so why did the room suddenly feel like it had gotten twenty degrees colder? The air wasn’t only downright chilly, it seemed heavy. Weighty, somehow.
The hair at the back of her neck rose.
Clunk.
“That’s it.” She scooped up the tray. It was late, and she was overtired. She put the platter back in the refrigerator, but kept the champagne. She scowled at the basement door.
She hadn’t liked it when she’d explored down there earlier today. Hadn’t liked it at all. The big, gaping room was unfinished and dingy. Maybe it was that emptiness that had bothered her. Light hadn’t even wanted to go down there.
She waited for the furnace a moment longer.
Once again, she was greeted with silence.
“Good,” she said. Still, she took another swig of champagne.
She nearly dropped the bottle when a long, drawn-out creak came from overhead. The sound was haunting, coming right down through the outer wall. She lasted only a half-second more before thrusting the champagne into the refrigerator and hurrying out of the room.
It was that annoying shutter, she reminded herself... the one on the second floor.
Not to mention some alcohol that had obviously gone straight to her head.
She found the thermostat in the hallway near her bedroom. The living room seemed warmer, but she could feel that chill seeping out of the kitchen. Almost as if it was pushing her away from it...
A shiver ran through her.
“Darn it.” The furnace needed help. She was going to have to get somebody out here to check on it.
Goosebumps dimpled her bare arms, and darkness pressed on her from all sides. The dim light from the old bulbs in the light fixtures couldn’t hold it back. Quickly, she scampered to her room. For one night, she’d have to survive the old-fashioned way of huddling under the covers. Her teeth were chattering by the time she closed the door behind her.
When she did, the chill disappeared, and she was practically bathed in warmth.
She frowned. Kneeling down, she held her hand out in front of the floor vent in this room. Warm air brushed against her fingertips. She sighed. No doubt about it, the heating system was screwed up. “Ka-ching.”
She was going to have to start writing again soon to earn the money to pay for all these repairs.
Fatigue suddenly hit her hard.
It had been a long day... A big day... The first in her new way of life...
She opened a box to search for something to sleep in. The only things she could find, though, were towels and bedsheets. Giving up, she shrugged out of her clothes. She slapped off the overhead light and dove, naked, for the bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin.
Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to relax.
This was going to have to stop. The house was old and needy. It didn’t make any sense why she was letting it get to her. She was used to noise. She’d moved here to get away from the hustle and bustle. On any given night in her old apartment in Boston, she’d had to sleep through music from next door, vacuuming from the obsessive-compulsive upstairs, or fighting from the newlyweds across the hall. A clunky furnace and a creaky shutter should be nothing.
Then again, it could be because she was alone.
Click.
The soft sound was impossible to ignore. Callie’s eyes flew open, and she sat straight up in bed. Her heart thudded as she reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. With wide eyes, she looked across the room.
And her heart nearly stopped.
Her bedroom door had just locked itself.
* * *
HER HAND HOVERED OVER the doorknob, still warm to the touch. This was not how she’d wanted it to be. Not at all.
She glided up and down the hallway outside the first-floor bedroom. Anger burned inside her, filling her being and clouding her soul. A burst of energy left her, and the open lids of the boxes in the living room bent back before flopping forward.
Her home had been infiltrated.
Her secrets were being used against her.
This simply couldn’t go on.
Propelled by her frustration, she swept into the living room. Things cluttered the area. Things that weren’t hers. She paused in the kitchen, disturbed by the strange scents that floated on the air. They made her draw back. Strange lemon and pine odors stained the atmosphere and—
Fresh air. Fresh, clean autumn air. She let it swim over her.
The winds of change.
Her anger honed into sharp, pointed teeth. The winds of change were here, but the uninvited spirit threatened to ruin it all. She’d waited so long for this place and time. She couldn’t linger any longer. She couldn’t bear it.
The door to the basement swung open with a beleaguered creak. Darkness awaited her, cold and yawning, and she pitched herself down the stairs.
It couldn’t stay. Not here. Not in her house.
Not now.